After All
by EvanesDust
Summary: A sheriff's cruiser pulls up behind his Jeep. Stiles holds up his flashlight, careful not to blind the deputy, but giving them enough light to be able to see him. He hears the door open and sees a tall figure begin to walk towards him. Stiles stops short. The deputy is now in front of him, directly in front of him and, Jesus wept, he is the most gorgeous man Stiles has ever seen.


It's half past midnight when his Jeep breaks down. After an 18-hour shift at the store, all Stiles wants to do is crawl into bed. Forget taking a shower, forget even just changing. He'd been planning on just throwing himself head-first into bed and promptly passing out.

"_Fuck_ my life," he groans, banging his head against the steering wheel. The sky shines bright with flashes of lightning, and the Jeep rattles as thunder booms overhead. He continues to bang his head as the slow pitter-patter of rainfall quickly becomes a torrential downpour.

"_Please start, please start, please start…_" Stiles chants in prayer, turning the ignition.

Nothing.

He mutters a curse at the realization that he's stuck, stranded on the side of the road. He can't even call anyone to help since he has no phone. Maisie, his brother Scott's dog (well step-brother, eh, semantics), may have eaten it. Okay, not eaten, but she did use it as a chew toy and thus rendered it useless, and Stiles doesn't have enough money saved up for a new one. Thankfully his job offers overtime to prepare for inventory, so he plans to pick up as many hours as possible and put his next paycheck toward a new device.

Looking around the backseat, Stiles hopes, maybe, _yes_! A flashlight. At least now, he can pop the hood and possibly figure out what's wrong with the Jeep. Yes, _the _Jeep, not _his _Jeep because _his _Jeep, Roscoe, would _never _betray him like this. Heh. Oh, who is he kidding? Yes, she would.

Fingers crossed, he glances in the back again, this time searching for an umbrella, but... Of course not. Why would he keep an umbrella in the Jeep? That would be the smart, responsible thing to do. And regardless of graduating magna cum laude, Stiles is neither smart nor responsible.

Pulling up the hood of his jacket, he decides '_fuck it_' and braces for the worst. Of course, he also forgets that this has become the worst night of his life, and immediately slips in the mud.

"Son of a _BITCH_!" he yells, grabbing his left ankle. Sighing in defeat, he thumps his head against the Jeep. Deep breath in through the nose, hold it, out through the mouth. A few more of those and okay, he can do this. Pulling himself up, Stiles hobbles around to the front of the Jeep. The rain dying down makes navigating the treacherous terrain easier.

Just as he's about to unlatch the hood, headlights barrel down the wet pavement toward him. Thank _God_! Or not? He _is _in the middle of nowhere since he always takes the backroads home to avoid traffic, and he's seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre. These kinds of situations never end well for guys who are 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones. No, wait! He's a grown man; he is _not _scared. Pfft! So what if he stumbles to the passenger side to pull out his trusty bat? Don't judge. Anyone would be nervous in this situation. Yeah, _nervous_, not scared.

Suddenly a siren chirps and red and blue lights start flashing atop the other vehicle. "_Thank you, thank you, thank you_," Stiles says as he throws his head back to breathe a sigh of relief. The rain has stopped, and now he has a savior.

A sheriff's cruiser pulls up behind his Jeep. Stiles holds up his flashlight, careful not to blind the deputy, but giving them enough light to be able to see him. He hears the door open and sees a tall figure begin to walk towards him.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you depu—" Stiles stops short. The deputy is now in front of him, _directly _in front of him, and _Jesus wept_, he is _the_ most gorgeous man that Stiles has ever seen. His eyes slowly trail down and then back up the deputy's body, taking in a uniform that fits so snug, so _perfect_, that it's just shy of indecent. From slacks that hug well-muscled thighs and hips, to the shirt clinging onto the broad expanse of his chest and arms. Arms that could be used to hold Stiles up as he— Wait, no _stop_! Down boy. Okay fine! Two words: wall sex. Mind meet gutter.

Stiles looks up to his savior's face, high cheekbones that feature a well-groomed beard. And his eyes… A brilliant hazel, a sunburst of gold, surrounded by a pool of green with a dark blue rim… Eyes that are currently looking at him curiously.

"Car troubles?" Deputy Adonis asks with a smirk, nodding towards the Jeep. Stiles blushes in embarrassment as he's caught ogling the deputy.

"Yeah, ahem, just stopped all of a sudden, and I can't get her to turn back on."

Deputy Hottie raises an eyebrow. Who knew eyebrows could be a turn on? "Well, let's pop her hood so I can take a look." Stiles limps over, but Deputy Sex on Legs stops him after a couple of steps. "Are you alright? Why are you limping?" A bright LED light flashes up and down Stiles's body, checking for injuries.

"I, uh, slipped getting out of the Jeep." Stiles offers with a small shrug.

A long line of heat burns through his wet flannel when Deputy Irresistible presses against him, rock-hard arm snaking around Stiles's middle. "Lean against me. Why don't we have you take a seat in the cruiser while I look at your Jeep?" Stiles hears as he's half carried, half dragged to the other vehicle.

"Roscoe."

"Hale."

Stiles raises a questioning eyebrow at Deputy Wet Dream. "What?"

"Deputy Hale. Derek Hale. I thought we were introducing ourselves?" Stiles watches a small smile form on the deputy's face before he glances away.

He can't help but chuckle. "No, my, uh, my Jeep. Her name is Roscoe." He scratches at the back of his neck. "I'm Stiles. Stilinski."

"Stilinski? As in Sheriff Stilinski?"

"Former Sheriff, but yeah, that's my dad." Stiles's eyes cast downward as he remembers why his dad retired. Shot in the line of duty two years prior, a bullet had pierced his father's left lung. Between blood loss and oxygen deprivation, the doctors hadn't been sure he would make it through surgery. The road to recovery had been long and hard, for the sheriff and Stiles alike, and Stiles had been secretly thankful when his father not only survived but also decided to turn in his badge.

"Mr. Stilinski?" Deputy Hale places a gentle hand on Stiles's shoulder. "Stiles?"

Looking up into concerned eyes, Stiles blows out a harsh breath. "Sorry, yeah. J-just remembering…"

"He's alright now. He's strong, and he survived, and he's alright." Stiles nods in agreement as he locks eyes with the deputy. "Okay, I'm gonna go check your girl and see what's going on. Just sit here and warm up. Don't want you catching pneumonia."

Stiles watches Deputy Hale walk back towards his Jeep. He seems like a nice guy, and Stiles should feel wrong about objectifying him in his mind but can't seem to do so when the view is oh-so-lovely.

The warmth of the car makes Stiles shiver involuntarily and pulls him from his train of thought. He looks down at himself and groans, realizing he has mud caked on almost the entirety of his lower body. Looks like it'll be laundry day tomorrow.

Just as he starts fiddling with the vents to direct more heat towards him, the driver's side door opens, and Deputy Hale settles into the driver's seat. "So, I'm no mechanic, but I think it might be your alternator."

"Yeah, wouldn't surprise me. She's an older lady, and I don't take her in for regular checkups."

"You know, if you're going to keep an older model vehicle, you should really take better care with its maintenance."

Stiles chuckles. "I know. _Believe me_, I know." He rubs at his face. "She was my mom's and I—I try." His breathing starts to get erratic as he gets worked up. Oh sure, why not add a panic attack to the night? "I really do, but it costs money, and my job will only allow so much overtime. I can't get a second job with my sc-schedule at the st-store." Shaky hands scratch at the back of his neck as he gets more distressed. "And I've got bills! I need fo-food! And gas! An-and my phone! I need to replace my cell ph-phone! I couldn't— I c-couldn't even call any—"

"_Whoa_! Hey, hey. Take a minute. _Breathe_..." Stiles can feel his arms tingle where the deputy is rubbing soothing circles. A soft voice guides him through his panic. "Deep breath in, slow exhale. Again. Stiles, _look _at me." The worry of the deputy's voice draws Stiles's eyes to his handsome face. "Deep breath in. That's good. Now hold it. And 3. 2. 1. Now slow exhale. 3. 2. Okay? You're okay."

Calm settles over him as his breathing regulates. With a shuddering exhale, he whispers, thank you. "Sorry. I've just— It's been a long day, followed by an _awful _night."

"Well, let's get you home so you can clean up and crash. Your car _will _need to be towed, though. Do you have another mode of transportation?"

"I mean, I could probably borrow either my dad's or my brother's car. Do you have— Could I use your phone? I, uh, I can give them a call to come get me."

"Stiles…" The look Stiles receives is full of compassion. "We're not waking someone up when I can drive you home. Unless you're not comfortable with me driving you?"

"No, it's not— It's not that… I just don't wanna inconvenience you."

"Stiles, I am a deputy of the Beacon Hills Sheriff's department. It is literally my job to help the citizens of the community."

Stiles gives a slight nod to the expectant look he receives. "Okay. Thank you, deputy."

"Alright then. I'll call dispatch to get a tow sent out. Any particular mechanic shop you go to?"

"Yeah, actually, I go to Lahey's on Madison. Could you have it taken there?" He receives a nod from the deputy who grabs the radio. "I'll go get my keys real quick." The deputy shakes his head, holding up one hand to show the keys dangling from his fist.

After receiving confirmation of a tow truck being sent, the deputy turns to him. "Does your ankle still hurt?"

Stiles rotates his ankle and grimaces at the tiny spark of pain. "A little."

"Do you need anything else out of your car?"

Without a garage at home, Stiles parks his Jeep in the driveway each night. His neighborhood is relatively crime-free, but he was a rebellious teenager once, so he knows better than to leave any valuables in Roscoe. "No. I don't really keep anything in there."

"Alright, do you want to remove your car key then? They'll need that at the mecha—" Stiles shakes his head and takes the keys from the deputy.

"Isaac has a copy." He gives the deputy a half shrug, continuing when he receives a confused look. "I told you… She's an old lady who needs a lot of work. Isaac's my mechanic. At least he is when I have the money to take her in. He's been working on her regularly for four years now. When my mom was alive, she took Roscoe to Isaac's father, who originally owned the shop."

"Alright then. Let's get you home."

After giving the deputy his address, the car ride is quiet. While he can feel the deputy's eyes shift over to him from time to time, he doesn't want to overthink it. Stiles decides to use this opportunity to think about his budget. Isaac and his father have always been kind to the Stilinskis, never charging for labor and, without exception, finding the best deals on parts. The boys grew up together after their mothers became friends when they met at one of their first prenatal visits. The deaths of both women brought the families closer together.

Stiles has one more week of potential overtime he could ask for. And he's sure if he asked, he could pull more at one of the other stores since each district groups their inventories. He supposes he could also stick to soups and sandwiches as a meal plan if needed and possibly postponing the purchase of a new cell phone.

Before he realizes, the deputy is pulling into his driveway and shutting off the car. "Thank you so much, Deputy Hale. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't have driven by. I mean, I do know. I probably would have slept in my car and then started walking in the morning. So really, you saved me from—"

"Stiles. First of all, please call me Derek. Second, it's fine, really." Derek's voice is full of understanding. "You're welcome. Again, I was just doing—"

"Yeah, I know." Stiles nods his head. "You're just doing your job. I can still be grateful." There's a minute of awkward silence as Stiles fidgets in his seat. "Well, I should just—" Stiles begins as Derek says, "Lemme help you—" Both men laugh, and Stiles stares in awe at the beautiful smile he sees on Derek's face. He gestures at Derek to continue.

"Please let me help you inside. I'd like to take a look at your ankle. If it's still giving you trouble, that is."

"No, it's okay. Doesn't hurt as much. I don't think it's twisted or sprained. I'm so tired that any aches and pains are just amplified right now, so I think it's more in my mind."

"If you really feel that way… Although I _would_ feel better if I could check you before I leave." Stiles wants to protest, but he's held in Derek's gaze, and as if Derek can read his mind, he immediately says, "It's not an inconvenience."

"Okay. Yeah."

A smile tugs on Stiles's lips as Derek exits the vehicle and runs around to the passenger side. Opening the door, Stiles is pulled up and helped to the front door.

"Cute house. It's got, what do you say, hmm, curb appeal." Stiles can see him eyeing the garden lining the path to the front porch.

"Thank you," Stiles responds shyly. "I grew up here." He takes in his surroundings. "My dad and I try to keep up with the landscaping. It was more my mom's forte, but we try, y'know? As a kind of tribute." He unlocks his front door allowing Derek to lead them inside into the living room. "It was just my dad and me; then when he and Melissa got married, he opted to move in with her. He gave me the choice to stay or sell, and I couldn't—" He sighs heavily. "I love this house. It's my home."

Derek wears a fond expression, and warmth spreads through Stiles's chest. "Well, it's a beautiful home. You've done a great job. I think your mom would be proud." There's a moment where it seems that Derek looks at him with fascination, but then it's broken when he gestures towards the couch. "Do you want to…?"

Stiles looks down at himself. "I should go and get changed first. But _please_... Make yourself at home. My dad always chucked off his uniform almost as soon as he entered the house. Not that you're going to chuck your uniform," he sputters. "I just— I'll be back in a sec." He shakes his head, shuffling down the hall towards his room before he can embarrass himself further.

When he returns, he notices that Derek has taken off his work belt, untucked _and _unbuttoned his uniform top. Underneath the shirt is a white tank so tight he can see the 6-pack of abs that are trying to stay hidden, with a curly tuft of black chest hair peeking over the low neckline.

Stiles gapes at him and sees a slight flush to Derek's cheeks in apparent response. "I hope this is okay. I'm off duty now, and you said…"

Stiles barely manages to stammer out with a squeaky voice, "Y-yeah, that's, uh, yeah. That's, ahem, that's fine, okay, more than—" He gulps audibly when Derek takes a step towards him.

"May I?" A hand is placed on Stiles's arm as it gently nudges him down to the couch. He feels a dip next to him as Derek sits. He's directed to turn and is thrown by how delicately Derek lifts his leg to place it on his lap.

Unexpectedly soft fingers brush over his skin, causing Stiles to let out a small gasp at the contact. He probably should have put on jogging pants or basketball shorts instead of his jersey sleep shorts. Derek's touch is igniting something he hasn't felt since his failed relationship with Matt in college.

He feels Derek massage his ankle with tender care. The touch is so comforting Stiles can feel himself melting into the couch, eyes fluttering shut. Even with a quiet voice, Derek startles him when he says, "I think you were right. I don't think there's a sprain. I would just rest up and keep your ankle elevated for the night." After a modest moment, Stiles's leg is gingerly placed on the couch as Derek gets up. "I'll let you rest now." There's a pregnant pause before Derek picks up his work belt and begins walking towards the door.

Stiles moves off the couch to walk him out. "Okay. Again, thank you." Head hung low at the loss of contact, and with the prospect of not seeing this man again, he's not paying attention and is stopped by the brick wall that is Derek's chest.

Stiles feels Derek grip his biceps to help steady him. "Whoa there. Trying to hurt yourself to keep me around?" Sparkling eyes look down at him, and he's mesmerized, getting lost in the kaleidoscope of colors. "Can I give you my number?"

"Whaaa?" Stiles blinks, eyes scrunched up questioningly.

"In case you need a ride to the mechanic."

Stiles lets out a sad sigh. Of course. Derek's just being courteous.

Before he has a chance to answer, Derek continues, "Oh my God. I'm so stupid. Do you— Do you have a home phone? I know you said something about replacing your cell phone. How are you going to get ahold of someone? How do you plan—"

Stiles huffs a laugh as Derek gets flustered. The deputy is downright adorable. "I have a home phone. It's in the kitchen. And don't worry about a ride. My dad or Scott will take care of me."

"Scott," There's a frown on Derek's face, which confuses Stiles. Especially as his arms are released when Derek takes a significant step back. "Right, I shouldn't have— I'm sorry. I should— I should go now."

"Derek?" Stiles reaches out to touch his arm but stops short, dropping it back to his side.

"I thought… I thought you were flirting, and I mean, of course, you weren't. I assumed, and I don't want to— I mean your boyfriend will prob—"

"Boyfriend?"

"Scott?"

"Brother. Well, _step_-brother. My dad married his mom a few years ago…" He trails off as Derek takes a step closer, looking hopeful.

"So, I can give you my number?"

"I won't need a ride," Stiles says, optimistic that if Derek still wanted his number, it was for less than courteous reasons.

"Tell me if I'm reading this wrong."

"No, not—not wrong. In fact, it's the total opposite of wrong." Stiles's voice laced with intent.

"Breakfast? Tomorrow? Can I take you out?"

"I think after my night, I'll be passed out until at least noon."

"Late lunch then. And after I can take you over to your mechanics," There's confidence in Derek's voice now, and Stiles can't help the wide grin that breaks out on his face.

"Yeah, I'd really like that."

"You got a piece of paper?" Stiles walks over to the desk in the corner of the room and pulls a piece of paper off his printer and a pen out of a drawer, handing them to Derek, who jots down his number. "I'm off tomorrow so just call me when you're up, and I'll come over."

Stiles walks Derek to the door, opening it for him. He watches as Derek steps out, looking back before getting into his car. They smile at each other, neither wanting to look away. Stiles bites his bottom lip at the shy smile he receives. There's one last glance where Derek gives him a nod before dipping into his car and driving away.

When the cruiser's tail-lights disappear around the corner, Stiles finally steps back inside. Leaning against the door after it's closed, he sighs and thinks to himself that maybe this night wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
